


Five Times Blaine's Charm Keeps Him Out of Trouble (And One Time It Really, Really Doesn't)

by ElliottRook



Category: Glee
Genre: Kid Fic, Kurt's not really in it until the end, M/M, as in some of the fives happen when Blaine is little, lol remember when we all thought Blaine was older than Kurt, mentions of past violence/injury, the Sadie Hawkins dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliottRook/pseuds/ElliottRook
Summary: It's all there in the title.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Five Times Blaine's Charm Keeps Him Out of Trouble (And One Time It Really, Really Doesn't)

* * *

#1 The Makeup Table

Blaine Anderson was all of three-and-a-half when he figured out how to turn on the charm. His mother probably hadn't known he was listening very intently while playing with his toy cars, but he had heard her plainly, talking with his aunt on the phone.

"I know I should've scolded him, but honestly, he was just too cute, Maggie. You should've seen him. He knew he was going to get in trouble, but his little chin started to tremble and I was waiting for the wail and it just never came, and he looked so _pitiful_ \--"

Blaine smiled. His dad had made it clear several times that crying loud was _bothersome_ , so Blaine had tried his hardest not to do it, and it had made Mommy not get angry at him when she found him and the broken vase. That was going to be useful information later.

Not that he'd meant to break the vase. He had been quite innocently playing with a rubber ball. After Mommy had cleaned up the mess, she had sat him down and explained that this was why his ball was an outside toy, and he had sincerely promised not to bring it inside anymore.

What she hadn't realized was that she was setting a precedent. Blaine really did try to be good, but sometimes he made mistakes, and he hated getting in trouble when he really didn't _mean_ to be bad.

A few nights after that conversation, the Andersons are getting ready for date night, and Blaine is happily sitting on his parents' bed, watching as his mother applies her makeup. He rather likes their date nights because he gets to spend the evening with Jessi, the best babysitter _ever_. She always brings coloring books and pudding cups.

"Sweetheart, can you help me with this confounded thing?" his father asks, the ends of his bow tie dangling from his collar.

"Yeah, sure, let me just finish my mascara--" She sweeps the brush over her lashes, then goes inside the bathroom to help him.

Blaine hops down off the bed and over to her vanity. She left all her pretty colored powders out, and her lipsticks and polishes are in easy reach once he climbs up and kneels on the stool. They're just so interesting, and she makes it look so easy and fun.

He pokes his finger into a blue eyeshadow. It comes off on his finger, and he rubs it onto one eye. He then inspects the pan in the large palette. When Mommy does it, it doesn't leave a fingerprint, but she puts it on with a brush. He reaches over to the cup that holds all her brushes, trying to take just one, but he knocks the cup over and they spill all over the tabletop. He chooses the one he's seen her use, and presses it hard into a different blue shadow. It crumbles under the pressure, and when he lifts the brush away he frowns a little, but then decides it must just be that Mommy has more practice, and he pats the brush on his eye. There's powder fallout, it tickles on his cheek and he breathes in a tiny bit and sneezes. He studies his reflection for a moment and decides he needs more colors, and he lifts the palette to look them over.

He dips his finger into a red and finds out that it's sticky, that one must be lipstick. He wipes his finger off on the white-cushioned stool and then pokes a purple shadow with the brush, crumbling that one, too, and then touching it to his eyelids. The hairs of the brush are sticking out in different directions when he sets it down. He realizes he should put the brushes back in their cup, and as he reaches over to do it, the palette goes tumbling out of his lap and crashes on the floor. He isn't worried about it, though. He clatters about half the brushes back into their cup when he realizes he needs lipstick. He picks a vivid fuchsia that his mother doesn't wear often but that he thinks is _beautiful_ , twists the bottom of it until it's all the way out, and presses it to his mouth. The tip of it breaks off, and he tries to mash it back into the tube but it doesn't go right. He still isn't very concerned, thinking she can fix it later since she knows more about this stuff than he does, and he picks up the tube of mascara she had leftlying there. It takes him a moment to twist off the top, and he looks at the brush for a moment before slowly moving it towards his open eye--

"Blaine Devon Anderson, what are you doing?" Mommy yells.

Blaine freezes before turning around to look at her. "I'm being pretty, Mommy," he says quietly. "Like you!" He smiles widely, but the middle name was invoked and he's pretty sure he's going to be in trouble.

Mommy rushes over and surveys the damage. "Oh, Blainey, you've made a _mess_ ," she scolds. She gingerly turns her palette back over and three more of the shadows have broken and come out, dust on her nice carpet. She shows him. "See? You've broken it."

Blaine eyes the palette, seeing the holes where there are colors missing. "Uh-oh."

"What do you want with Mommy's makeup, anyway?" Dad asks him, frustration edging his tone.

"I...just wanted to put on the pretty colors," Blaine chokes out. He can't whine about it; that's what makes Dad get annoyed.

His mother sighs. "Well, mister, you are not supposed to be playing in Mommy's things. I think the best thing would be for you to have a bath and then straight to bed."

Blaine's eyes widen. "But...but Jessi!" he says. "I've been waiting _forever_ for Jessi to come over!" His eyes get misty, and he chews at his lip. His chin trembles with the effort to not burst out in tears.

"Oh, honey--" The doorbell rings and Mommy picks him up and hands him off to Dad. "Get him in the bath while I get that," she says.

Dad runs the bathwater and Mommy comes in as Blaine is being set down in the tub. She scrubs all the pretty colors off his face. "Now listen to me, mister. From now on the rule is that you don't play with anything on Mommy's vanity unless I'm there, too. Do you understand?"

Blaine nods solemnly.

"Jessi is also going to help you clean up the mess you made."

"And then bedtime?" Blaine asks, resigned. He really had been looking forward to seeing Jessi.

Mommy sighs a little. "I talked with Jessi, and if she thinks you do a good job cleaning up, you'll be allowed to play with her for one hour."

Blaine's face lights up, a dimple making itself known as he grins. He raises his hands over his head. "Yay!"

"Hi, Blainey!" Jessi pops in. "I can get him in his jammies, Mrs. Anderson, I know you're running late."

Jessi thinks that Blaine does such a good job getting the eyeshadow out of the carpet with the Dustbuster that she lets him stay up for an hour and a half, but only if he promises not to tell.

* * *

#2 The Science Project

Blaine is in seventh grade when he starts having a hard time in school.

It isn't that he dislikes school, or learning, or even studying. It's the other kids. He isn't sure why the seventh and eighth grade jocks pick on him so much--he tried out for the football team, but didn't make it, much to his father's disappointment--but they seem fairly certain he's a sissy. _Mama's boy_ , they say, though they've never even _seen_ his mom. _Sissy. Wimp. Wuss_ , and none of it makes any sense because even though he's slightly shorter than the rest of them, he's stocky--not fat, but _sturdy_. He could take the pounding of getting tackled with the best of them, and yet after tryouts he was waved away with the kids that hadn't had a prayer.

But those are the just words that they use. The bullies--Blaine hates to accuse anyone, but they _are_ \--get scolded by teachers, whereas the word Blaine is afraid they _want_ to use would get them sent to the principal's office.

Not that it isn't true. Blaine is pretty darn sure he's gay. He just hasn't found the courage to admit it to anyone yet, not his parents, not his friends, no one but himself. He lets his dad think that the Pirates of the Caribbean poster is in his room because he looks up to Will Turner, when the truth is Blaine is just plain smitten with Orlando Bloom.

So Blaine just keeps trucking along, hanging out with his group of performance-inclined friends ( _theater nerds_ , the jocks say), hanging out on the grounds on nice days, jamming with them on the guitar he learned to play over the summer. Even his friends laugh at him a little when he plays Disney Princess songs, but the girls sing along anyway and he figures maybe it'll all be okay in the end.

Just before winter break, Blaine has a pretty big science project due. It's worth 35% of his grade, and he's been working on it for weeks, growing bean plants in little pots, testing out if they all grew clockwise around the little dowels he gave them for support. They _had_ , and the ones that he had deliberately tried to wrap the other way had _died_. He felt bad about that, but it was for science. He had done his research carefully and written a lengthy paper, and made a display with pictures of his plants along the way. His dad even helped him out with the watering and with putting together his tri-board display, and he was pretty sure he had an A+ project on his hands.

That morning, his dad drove him to school so the plants would be in the warm car, so no one would mess them up on the bus.

"And you'll come back in time to see who wins, right, Dad?" Blaine asks for the tenth time.

"Yeah, sure, son." Mr. Anderson smiles affectionately. "I can't miss you getting the blue ribbon."

Blaine unclicks his seatbelt almost before the car stops rolling, and he picks up his carefully blanketed box of plants. "I gotta get into the gym and set up. Thanks for the ride, Dad!" He hip-checks the back door of the car, stepping carefully over the slush-covered concrete, breath visible in the air before him.

He's excited about his project. He actually starts whistling "Oops I Did It Again" as he makes his way up the sidewalk.

As he's walking through the hallways, they're fairly quiet. Only the seventh graders are here yet, and it looks like most of them are already in the gym. He rounds a corner, though, and almost crashes into Tyson Peters.

"Oh, sorry," Blaine apologizes. "Gotta get to the gym."

Tyson, who is in eighth grade and Going To High School Next Year, snorts. He's six inches taller than Blaine and actually made it onto the football team. "Oh yeah, it's nerd day in there, so they'll actually let you in for once."

Blaine frowns. He doesn't argue that completing a required homework project hardly makes him a _nerd_ , it'd just be a waste of time. "Yes, and I need to hurry, I'm running late."

Tyson cocks his head. "Well, maybe you should watch where you're going." He gently shoves Blaine's box into his stomach.

Blaine grips it tightly, hoping that none of the plants have spilled any dirt. He takes a deep breath. "Tyson, please, just let me go."

Tyson lifts the blanket and peeks in the box. "You did plants? You really are a wuss, even the _really_ nerdy guys are doing the baking soda volcano. God. Loser."

Blaine's mouth sets into a thin line. "I didn't want to do the same thing as everyone else," he says, keeping his tone friendly. The last thing he needs is for Tyson to steal his box, or worse yet, damage it. If he can just get to the gym there will be teachers and he'll be safe. "You know, rise above the crowd." It's as much to remind himself as anything.

Tyson rolls his eyes. "If you say so, Hobbit." He gives a look to the box, contemplating, and Blaine doesn't like it.

Blaine fights the rising panic, trying to change the subject, still trying to smile through this. He simply does not need to get in a fight--his project would be ruined, his dad would be mad, he'd probably get his first detention. "Hobbit? I love those movies."

"You would," Tyson sneers, ruffling Blaine's hair. "Prancing _fairies_ and stuff. God, go on, get outta here." He jerks a thumb in the direction Blaine is desperate to go.

Blaine edges around Tyson carefully, trying not to make it obvious that he's walking very quickly once he gets out of Tyson's immediate reach.

His heart is racing. His project could've been ruined. He's going to make sure he's always with a teacher or one of his girl friends after this. Being alone makes him too nervous.

The fear ebbs later when his dad hugs him for taking the blue ribbon. Blaine can't remember the last time that his dad took so many pictures.

* * *

#3 The Fender-Bender

Blaine shut his car off and got out, just as the woman was getting out of her van.

If only he had been paying more attention, it wouldn't have happened. Yes, the sun had been in his eyes, but that was all the more reason to hesitate, to wait and make sure that people could see what he was trying to do. But no, he'd backed right back into the cross traffic and the soccer mom had hit him. _Shit_. He'd only had his license for a few months.

"Didn't you see me coming?" she yells.

Blaine takes in a deep breath. "Honestly, no, ma'am, the sun was in my eyes."

She huffs in annoyance. She'd already backed her van away from his car, and she bends over her fender, inspecting it. "Does that look dented?" she demands.

Blaine bends over, studying first her fender, then his bumper. He can't see anything. He'd barely been moving yet, and she had been inching along, looking for a parking spot. The whole incident was pretty much just a tap, and her bumper is _plastic_. "No?" he says hopefully.

She rubs at her temples. "Let me get my insurance card so you can write it all down."

Blaine sighs. "Is that really necessary?"

She cocks an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, neither of us can see any damage, clearly both the cars are still capable of running..." He shrugs, trying to look like he knows what he's talking about. Wes had told him about his older brother saying something similar. "Is there really any point in telling the insurance companies about this, well, non-event? I don't think either of us is going to a mechanic, and the insurance will just want to raise both our rates..." He doesn't mention how his dad would freak out about that, how he's already an at-risk driver just for being male and under 25, how he _really_ doesn't need his parents finding out about this a week after he'd gotten lectured about paying more attention to driving and less to singing along with his music.

She surveys him carefully. "Give me your number," she insists. "If anything breaks, I'll call you."

"Sure, sure..."

She gets out her phone and keys it in as he tells her. "And hey, if it's something small, I can maybe look at it for you, my dad and I rebuilt a car a couple of years ago..." He notices she puts his name in as _Politeguywhohitmycar_.

She presses a button on her phone, and Blaine's phone begins playing _Single Ladies_. "Okay, just making sure," she says. "I wouldn't worry, though, it looks like both cars are fine. Maybe a sensor got knocked loose but I'm sure nothing huge went wrong."

Blaine smiles. "Yeah. I'm sure they're fine."

* * *

#4 The Chemistry Experiment

Blaine likes Dalton's chemistry classes. He pretends it's Potions class, brewing things much more exciting than what his textbook claims, but even though he knows he's going to be balancing chemical equations later on rather than something magical like changing his appearance or having guaranteed good luck, it's still interesting. Hands-on learning beats taking notes on a lecture by far.

And for the last two weeks, it's made him think of Kurt, because now that they're together Blaine realizes that they have _great_ chemistry.

Today the experiment involves Bunsen burners and safety goggles, so he's trying to be extra careful, but he was a little bit distracted when Mrs. Melton went over the instructions. Hedrops the measure of powder into the barely-bubbling liquid in his beaker, and it foams just like everyone else's had, but his foam seems to go higher.

And higher.

The froth cascades over the top of the beaker and dribbles down the side. When it drips into the flame, it begins to burn. Everyone nearby jumps back with a gasp, Blaine included, as the concoction starts to spread over the table, carrying flame with it.

"Shit!" Mrs. Melton swears, running over with the fire extinguisher. "Anderson! What did you _do_?" She sprays over the fire and manages to get it out quickly.

"I--I'm sorry!" Blaine apologizes. "I thought I was doing it right, I only added a tablespoon--"

" _Tea_ spoon, Anderson," Mrs. Melton scolds. "I said that was very important to avoid risking burning down this whole school. It's in your book, on the whiteboard, and I repeated it out loud for good measure."

Blaine is properly abashed. "I--I'm sorry, ma'am, I really was trying to be careful. I'm just a bit preoccupied--Sectionals--"

"Weren't Sectionals last week, Anderson?"

Blaine flushes. That wasn't quite what he meant.

"He means Kurt," Nick supplies from the next table. "They _finally_ got together and he's been like a lovesick puppy ever since."

Blaine shoots him a look something between gratitude and mortification, then turns back to Mrs. Melton and tries to turn on the dapper as best he can while wearing a shapeless, uniform-protecting smock.

"That's still no excuse, Anderson." There's a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth but she won't let it through; pretty much the only people in all of Dalton that hadn't been able to see how infatuated Blaine was with Kurt were Blaine and Kurt themselves.

Blaine nods. "I know. I didn't mean to wreck everything. Even Kurt will be appalled at my carelessness."

Mrs. Melton sighs. Blaine smiles an uncertain half-smile.

"Well, normally this kind of damage to school property would carry a detention, Anderson. But since you seem to be aware of the grievousness of the potential consequences of your mistake..."

"I'll gladly stay after class and clean up," Blaine offers.

"And you will write me five hundred words on the topic of carelessness, due at class tomorrow. But I don't think this incident needs to be a black mark on your record here if you've learned the appropriate lesson."

"Yes ma'am."

"Now go get the mop bucket."

Blaine sighs in relief.

* * *

#5 The Sexy Makeout

Kurt lets out a soft whimper.

"Bad?" Blaine whispers.

"No, good. Very, _very_ goo-- _ohhhhhh_..." Kurt groans as Blaine mouths at his neck again.

They're in Kurt's room, more specifically on Kurt's bed, and they have the house to themselves for at least another hour. Carole's at work, Burt's at the shop, Finn is at Rachel's, and Blaine is on top.

"I love you," Blaine breathes against Kurt's skin.

Kurt is sunken down among his pillows and getting cozier by the second. "Love you too," he agrees, cupping Blaine's cheek and motioning Blaine closer so they can kiss again. Their lips crash together and Blaine is losing himself in the moment, in the kiss, in _Kurt_ , and suddenly an hour, which had sounded like such a luxurious length of time when Kurt had told him about it on the drive over from school, feels like just the briefest flash of time. He's never going to be able to get enough of this.

Kurt hooks one leg around Blaine's, and shifts a little, and suddenly this makeout session has taken a sharp turn towards the dirty. Blaine smiles even as he's kissing Kurt, and next thing he realizes, his shirt has come untucked and Kurt's cool fingertips are brushing at his waistband, caressing the small of his back, brushing along his spine.

Blaine shivers involuntarily.

Then there's a knock at the door, and both of them scramble to sit up on the bed. Kurt sits back against the headboard, knees to his chest, and Blaine sits cross-legged facing him, hoping it isn't too obvious that their pants are a wee bit too snug, but even if it isn't, there's no good explanation for them not having any lights on, or for their flushed faces.

"Hey, guys, just wanted to let you know I managed to get off early--" Burt trails off. "And what were you two up to in here?" he asks, suspicion filling his tone.

"Nothing!" Kurt denies, too quickly and too high-pitched, even for him. "Just...just talking."

Burt raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Talking?"

"About the future," Blaine jumps in. "Colleges. In New York."

"Oh," Burt nods. "I see. Thought you had settled on that NYADA place, Kurt."

Kurt shrugs, nonchalance reattained. "Well, that's first choice, but we're talking backups."

"Yeah, it all depends on where we can both get in," Blaine adds. "We just...need to be close to each other. It'd be hard to support each other if we're not."

"Not to mention we'd both be distracted missing each other," Kurt chimes in.

Burt looks from one boy to the other. He hasn't admitted it out loud yet, but Blaine is good for Kurt-- _amazing_ for Kurt--and he's starting to think-- _hope_ \--that Blaine will be his son-in-law someday. Making college plans together seems like a logical step down that path. It's an intimate conversation to be having; the pair may well have been having it while innocently curled up in each other's arms. In the dark. Burt knows better, he can see Blaine's untucked shirt, but since there's no harm done this time, he decides to let it slide.

"Well, okay. I expect you two to come down and have dinner with everyone else when they get home, all right?"

"Sure, Dad," Kurt says, nodding.

Burt makes a show of positioning the door a good two feet open before heading back downstairs.

Kurt lets his head flop backward against the wall with a soft thump. "Remind me to lock it next time," he says softly. "Thank you, you're wonderful in a crisis."

"Only because it sucked so bad that one time I got you grounded."

Kurt smiles warmly, patting the spot next to him on the bed. "C'mere. But maybe we shouldn't lay down this time."

* * *

#1 The Whole Story

"How did you get to be so charming?" Kurt asks, affectionately.

Blaine shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I never really had strength on my side, so I learned to disarm people in other ways." He glances around before slipping his hand into Kurt's. They're strolling through the mall, fancy coffee in their free hands. The mall is fairly quiet and hopefully no one will pay them too much attention--Blaine smiles widely at a middle-aged woman who gives them a funny look, and she just shakes her head once and keeps walking.

Kurt takes a sip of his drink, and then nods toward the other side of the mall. "Ooh, I spy a clearance rack. We need to check it out."

Blaine stands, carrying the bags Kurt's already gotten today, watching his boyfriend flick through the hangers.

"You know, I wasn't expecting a serious answer," Kurt tells him. "It was a rhetorical question, because I love you."

Blaine smiles. "Love you too."

Kurt lights up, just like he does every time Blaine says it again. "I think you could charm your way out of anything, though. Seriously." He takes a hanger off the rack and holds it up, looking at Blaine and then the shirt in his hand with a critical eye before hooking it over his arm.

"Not quite everything," Blaine says.

"Name me one time where you ever got in trouble you weren't able to get out of."

Blaine tilts his head just a little. "I can think of one, but I don't want to talk about it here."

Kurt lifts his eyes from the clothes. "Oh?" This is important, and he focuses on Blaine.

"Let's get out of the mall, grab some lunch, and we can talk there."

Kurt nods, taking the shirt into the store to check out.

Half an hour later, they're seated in a booth near the back of a soup-and-sandwich café and holding hands across the table, eating slowly.

"So what's this impossible occasion where your charm failed you?"

Blaine purses his lips. "Remember I told you about the Sadie Hawkins dance?"

Kurt's eyebrows furrow. "Yes..."

"Well. I told you, but I didn't tell you everything."

"I saw the pictures of you and Zachary," Kurt reminds him, still frowning, not following.

"You saw the cute before picture of us in our shirts and ties. You didn't see the after pictures." Blaine takes a sip of his soda, more out of nervousness than anything. "The pictures they had to take at the hospital."

Kurt's eyes widen. "At the--Blaine, why didn't you tell me? No wonder you were so nervous about prom, I'm so sorry, if you'd told me it was that bad we wouldn't've--"

Blaine puts a finger on Kurt's lips. "That's why," he says. "It was all part of me trying to overcome my past and get ready for being out in the real world where there isn't always a zero-tolerance bullying policy, the whole reason I transferred, remember? And you should know by now that it's almost impossible for me to say no to you."

Kurt's eyes get incredibly soft. "Oh, Blaine. I love you. How--how bad was it?"

Blaine takes a deep breath. "Zachary had a broken arm and a couple of broken ribs. I--I missed the rest of the semester. Broken ribs. Broken leg. More cuts and bruises than we were able to count. They--I had a cut--" Blaine pushes his curls away from his forehead, revealing a pale line of a scar near his hairline. "That was six stitches. I had some others. I think it was thirty-five total. Dad sued the five jocks that did it to us, but they got off light, mostly because we couldn't completely prove it was them. I didn't see enough of any of them to know for sure who it was--I just heard them. They--they called me and Zachary the F word, among other things, and I tried to just be polite and get them to leave us alone while we waited for Mom to come get us, and they just--they had it in for us. Once we showed up on the dance floor, no amount of charm in the world would've helped. It didn't matter that we only danced together on the fast songs and barely even touched."

"Worse than McKinley, even."

"I'm not sure. I think we were better prepared for McKinley. I certainly didn't go to prom thinking as innocently as I had before. Anyway, they cornered us, there were no teachers, they took our cell phones before we could call anyone and--well. Like I said before, they beat the crap out of us. They--they might've killed us if Mom hadn't pulled up when she did. And you've seen my mom, but she was awesome. She had an umbrella in the car and she came after them with it and they all ran from this five-foot-five blonde _banshee_ screaming at them to get the hell away from her son." Blaine smiles at that part. Miranda Anderson is a force to be reckoned with on a normal day, but hurting her babies is tantamount to a death wish.

Kurt strokes his thumb over Blaine's hand throughout the story. "I'm so sorry."

"It's over now," Blaine says. "And on some level I don't think it's as bad at what happened with you and Karofsky--there wasn't any of the closeted weirdness, they just hated me. And Zachary. Zachary's family ended up moving to Chicago."

"What about the bastards that did it?" Kurt asks, voice lowered as he swears.

"None of them got expelled, they all did community service. Zachary was able to positively identify one of them and he went to juvie for a few months. As soon as Dad realized that they would all be there when school started back up, he made the arrangements for me to go to Dalton. I had to repeat my freshman year, since I missed the last three and a half months, and Dalton's tougher anyway."

"I wondered why you were a junior when our birthdays are so close together," Kurt admits. Blaine's not quite four months older than him.

"Yeah. And so that summer consisted of dreading private school--I ended up loving Dalton, of course, but I was really nervous--and building a car with my dad."

Kurt nods. "I had a feeling that was the year."

Blaine shrugs. "Not that it helped, at least not how he wanted it to. I learned enough to talk to your dad and Finn about cars so I guess that turned out all right." Blaine smiles as something occurs to him. "When you stop and think about it, you and I are ridiculously compatible. Not just with each other, but--I don't know, it's like we were just cut out to fit into each other's families and lives and everything. You're strong enough to call my dad out, I like cars and football so your dad and Finn love me, Mom and Carole seemed to really hit it off on that shopping trip--"

Kurt looks at Blaine through lowered lashes, a smile lighting up his face. "You're not even trying to get out of trouble and yet I'm still completely charmed. Of _course_ we're cut out for each other. You're my missing puzzle piece."

**Author's Note:**

> I got a new laptop in May, and in the process of moving my data over, I found two Glee fics that apparently got posted to LiveJournal back in the day...and nowhere else? They never made it to FFN or my website at any rate, if I had other accounts at the time they no longer exist. So these are going up before I forget again, and before I start posting the longest thing I've ever written ahah


End file.
